


USS Saturn: Road to 2399

by Taralbooks



Series: USS Saturn [1]
Category: Star Trek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taralbooks/pseuds/Taralbooks
Summary: Much has happened in the years leading up to 2399, the year in which Commodore Juliet St. Clair took command of the USS Saturn. A prelude to a larger work, “Road to 2399” presents a few of our leading characters in the years before they come aboard the Saturn.
Series: USS Saturn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659310





	1. Federation Day Festivities

**Author's Note:**

> This is an anthology story ahead of a larger fiction.

Reception Hall, Deep Space Six

12 August 2390, 21:55

It wasn’t every day that one was invited to the biggest social event in the Beta Quadrant. But thankfully, this year, fate decided that Starfleet would choose Deep Space Six for the Federation Day Spectacular and give Commodore Juliet St. Clair, Executive Officer of Task Force 93, a seat at the table. Not at the head, of course. That went to her boss, Vice Admiral Kara Thrace, who sat with the Federation Minister of Foreign Affairs to her left and the Prime Minister of K’Normia to her right. But the diminutive TFXO, who had opted not for her dress uniform but instead for a bright red ball gown that stood out against her hair, dyed bright blue though she permitted the greying at her temple to show, had been given the next most prominent seat at the table’s opposite head.  
  
First came the reception. Juliet stood next to Kara in the receiving line and then spent an hour mingling. So many of the Quadrant’s most influential people in military, politics, academia, and commerce, many of whom Juliet needed to get to know better to best execute Federation and Starfleet policy in her operational theatre, were all in one room. A Klingon High Council member. A representative of the nascent Romulan Free State. Starfleet Captains specializing in this area of space. University professors studying the cultures and natural phenomena of the region.  
  
Next came dinner. They enjoyed seven courses and two hours of delicious food, exquisite wine, and engaging conversations with some of the most interesting people in known space. To Juliet’s left was the Chief Executive Officer of the largest civilian shipyard this side of Earth. To her right sat none other than Nassim Miri, a prominent social media influencer with almost one billion followers in the Beta Quadrant half of the Federation.   
  
As the hour neared 2200, Juliet found herself with a prime spot by the main viewport. Glass of ice wine in hand, a dessert wine for which her Canadian First Officer on the _USS Tucker_ had given her a taste, she stood alone and waited for the next part to begin.  
  
“Good evening, Commodore,” came a baritone voice behind her.   
  
Juliet turned to face the source of the voice, and smiled warmly when she saw who it was. Klingon. Eighteen inches taller than her. Black hair, pulled neatly into a ponytail, a small amount of grey at the temples. A variant of the armour typically worn by members of the High Council for formal events such as this. She had only met him today, during the pre-dinner reception, but he was one worth speaking to further.  
  
“Councillor Karak,” she said. “Would you honour me with your company?”  
  
Karak stepped up to the viewport and offered an arm, which she took. They stood side by side and waited. “Truth be told, Commodore St. Clair, I find it puzzling that Terrans even have this tradition. Exploding weapons in a celebratory manner seems distinctly uncharacteristic of the Federation.”  
  
The Commodore grinned. “The tradition actually has nothing to do with battle. The Earth nation of China, from whence comes my Yeoman over there,” she looked and nodded at Crewman Zhen, who was grinning far too widely as she spoke with Nassim Miri, “first put pyrotechnics in an exploding container over a millennium ago. The displays brought luck, warded off evil spirits, and were very entertaining.” She looked up to the tall Klingon’s face. “Colour was added later. It is true, though, that the same technology formed the basis of bombs and firearms. Still, the idea behind colourful pyrotechnics for celebrations spread around the world. The nation I grew up in still sets them off when we crown a new monarch. Whether we’re bringing in the New Year or celebrating the birth of nations, nothing is more special to Humans than a fireworks display.” She looked back out the viewport. “We adapted the concept for space, of course.”  
  
“Of course,” Karak repeated, grinning at the viewport. “Still, it speaks to the similarities between our cultures. We Klingons have a similar tradition. On the anniversary of certain major battles, we detonate powerful explosives to dazzle the crowd and remind the honoured dead that we continue to be Klingons.” He turned to look at Juliet a moment before returning his gaze outside. “Few of these battles are celebrated Empire-wide; many are remembered by only the Houses or planets most directly involved. One of the biggest events in all of the Empire is that which honours the Battle of the Binary Stars. It was three months ago but it is celebrated annually. Perhaps next May you would be my guest at my estate on Qo’noS for it?”  
  
“I would be honoured.”  
  
The first torpedo left the Starbase and the gathered crowd hushed. The weapon flew into space and detonated one hundred kilometres away in a brilliant array of red and yellow light. Two more followed it, and then two more, and before long the Commodore lost track of how many had been fired. All sorts of colours lit space. Acoustic sensors picked up what sound the blasts would be making if detonated in atmosphere and made them audible to those bearing witness. Crowds were dazzled, and Juliet had fun teaching Karak when to “Ooh!” and when to “Ahh!” at the sights.   
  
It had been one of the best Federation Day celebrations Commodore Juliet St. Clair of Birmingham, United Kingdom, Earth had ever attended. She ate. She drank. She socialized with some of the Federation’s elite. And perhaps most important of all, for both professional and personal reasons, she made a friend in Karak, Son of Jol, member of the Klingon High Council.


	2. Comparing War Wounds

Karak Estate, Lake Lusor, Qo’noS

12 May 2391, 02:05

Awareness came back to her slowly. The first thing she noticed was the temperature. Her skin was cold, but her core felt frozen. It was as if she had spent too long in frigid water, but she was completely dry, and her clothing, while not too thick, covered her completely.  
  
The second thing she noticed was the darkness. For a moment, it wasn’t clear if there was no light or if her eyes were covered. She touched her face. No blindfold or coverings, and no obvious injuries. It was just pitch black in the room. Her eyes couldn’t adapt.  
  
A noise came from behind her. Metal. A door? She turned to face the source of the sound, hoping she could see something, but suddenly every muscle in her body convulsed at once. Electricity coursed through her. She gritted her teeth through the pain until she blacked out.  
  
Hot, bright lights on her face woke her. Her skin burned under light, though her core remained frozen. Her arms were bound above her head. She was held in a standing position, her feet just barely touching the floor.  
  
A menacing voice came from behind her. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but she recognized who it was. The man who had been her tormentor for the past week or so of her life.  
  
She repeated the only thing she’d said to him all week. “St. Clair, Juliet. Lieutenant Junior Grade. SC-755-317-SJE.” She continued to recite her name, rank, and serial number, even as her prison uniform was torn open at the abdomen. Her recitation was replaced by a scream as the tormentor drove a serrated dagger into her….  
  


* * *

  
  
Commodore St. Clair awoke in a panic. Her breathing was fast; she almost hyperventilated. Sweat glistened on her forehead and clung her sleepwear to her skin. It took a moment for her to situate herself, but once she realized she was safe, in the guest room of High Councilor Karak, she managed to calm herself. Her breathing slowed and came under control. She threw off the covers and groggily stood from the bed.  
  
Reserved only for Karak’s most favoured guests, her host spoke proudly of the dignitaries who had slept in that same four-poster bed from which Juliet just awoke. The guest room in itself was opulent and soft. She thought it might be one of the most comfortable bedrooms in the entire Klingon Empire. Red draperies ordained the bed and covered massive windows that overlooked Lake Lusor. Paintings of Karak or his ancestors with famous individuals of multiple species hung on two walls. Defying her expectations of a Klingon residence, even a Klingon mansion, Juliet was reminded of Versailles as she cleaned the sweat from her face and forehead in the ornate wash basin.  
  
Her mouth parched, the Commodore threw on a long Tholian silk kimono, the same shade of blood red as the draperies, cinched it tight around her waist, and left her room in search of a common area with a replicator.  
  
She had arrived two days prior, ahead of the celebration and fireworks display remembering the Battle of the Binary Stars. Almost one hundred and fifty years earlier, a war between the Klingon Empire and the Federation almost resulted in the destruction of both. Now, both sides used the occasion to cement relations, do what they could do prevent such devastation in the future, and in their own way honour the dead. Juliet had been honoured to receive Karak’s informal invitation during the Federation Day reception, and when Yeoman Zhen told her that a formal invitation came in, she was ecstatic. A diplomatic courier vessel brought her to Qo’noS, and Karak himself had given her a tour of the estate and its grounds. The house was palatial; despite its size and maze of corridors, Juliet remembered the sitting room a scant fifty meters from the guest room door. Within moments, she had found it, with several couches, decorative weapons along the wall, and a door outside to the terrace.  
  
“May I help you?”   
  
Juliet turned suddenly to face the source of the question. She smiled and let out a small laugh when she saw another familiar face.   
  
U’Dok, eldest son of Karak, sat on one of the sofas. His back was to the corridor but he craned his neck at the sound of footsteps on the marble floor. He held a PADD in one hand and a goblet of bloodwine in the other. “Forgive me, Commodore. I did not mean to startle you.” He set his PADD and drink down on the table in front of the sofa and stood. Not quite as tall as his father, U’Dok retained the imposing muscular frame of any Klingon warrior in his prime. At 23, he was already Second Officer aboard a battle cruiser, having earned his way up the ranks through determination and quite a few bloody fights. Still, he had taken his father’s lessons to heart as well, and despite having the frame of a bodybuilder, he spoke with the softness of a man who knew that a well-placed sentence was as devastating a weapon as a _bat’leth_. He gestured to the seat across from his. “Join me, won’t you? Perhaps I can get you a drink?”  
  
“Thank you, U’Dok. I’d love some cold water.” Juliet took the offered seat, pulling her legs under herself. U’Dok returned from the replicator and set a metal flagon full of cold water on the table before his guest. “What has you up so late?”  
  
“I could ask you the same question, Commodore,” U’Dok replied with a wry smile as he returned to his own seat. “But in fairness you asked first. Father has asked me to review the results of a training exercise. He is to present it to the High Council tomorrow and wants the opinion of someone he trusts. And you?”  
  
Juliet sipped her water and smiled, though her eyes showed only her exhaustion. “Truth be told, I’ve not slept well for decades.”  
  
“Nightmares?” he asked.  
  
“Memories, jumbled into nightmares,” she clarified. “Tell me, U’Dok, do Klingons ever have nightmares of their past battles?”  
  
U’Dok chuckled. “My peers would answer with uproarious laughter, Commodore. But they are too proud to admit that yes, even a mighty Klingon warrior will dream of the worst aspects of war. Battle is indeed about glory and honour, but it is nonetheless jarring to find your brother-in-arms burnt alive at his station. I myself find that I am sometimes shaken awake from the memory of the Battle of Rai. The p’taks who attacked Rai V killed hundreds of innocents, those who found their honour not in battle but other forms of service, with countless children at their side. I encountered one of the attackers during my time planetside, but I couldn’t stop him from firing upon a civilian transport with a portable micro-torpedo launcher. I still remember the sound of the explosion.” After a brief pause, his mouth twisted into a ferocious grin. “I got him though. It was glorious. We dueled for what felt like hours. I won in the end, but he gave me this to remember him by.” He pulled aside his uniform collar and showed a massive scar across his neck and left shoulder.  
  
Juliet smirked. “Of course Klingons would be proud of their battle scars.” She held both of her hands in front of her, showing her slender fingers to her host’s eldest. She then deliberately removed the long blue fingernail from her index finger and set it on the table. “A gift from the Cardassians. One of their prison guards didn’t pay close enough attention. His mistake cost him his right eye. Overseer Temmet took my nails for it.” She grinned. “Can’t leave your prisoners with weapons, eh?”   
  
U’Dok’s sharp teeth showed under curled lips. He rolled up his right sleeve to show another long, angry scar, starting from his wrist and ending at his elbow. “I earned this during the pacification of the rebellion on al'Hmatt. Those bears are ferocious.”  
  
Juliet’s turn. She pulled her left arm out of the sleeve of her robe and pulled it out the front. She turned to show a burn scar on her shoulder. “Battle of Suah’Dron. Burning shrapnel from an exploding console. Hurt like hell, but I was alive to feel it. Captain Sokon wasn’t so lucky. The day I earned this, I also earned my first command.”  
  
From just outside both of their fields of view, another person cleared his throat. “I trust I’m not interrupting anything?” Juliet and U’Dok turned to see High Councilor Karak. He sported a wry smile. “You understand my son is betrothed, don’t you, Commodore St. Clair? You met his beloved last night. And he is young enough to be your son.”  
  
Juliet recognized the Councilor’s sarcastic tone for what it was. She put her arm back through her sleeve, smirking at her host as she did so. “Come now, Karak. It was my understanding that the sharing of battle scars and war wounds was a tradition among Klingons.” She also clipped her discarded fingernail back on. “Your son was being as pleasant a host as his father for an insomniac like myself.”  
  
Karak gave his guest a short, courteous bow, acknowledging the compliment. “I came to brief my son on recent developments, but they affect you as well. Regrettably, your courier was called away on urgent assignment.”  
  
Juliet rolled her eyes. It was not the first time she had to find her own way back to Deep Space Six after Starfleet Command reassigned her transport without first checking in with her. She let out a long sigh. “Thank you, Karak. I suppose I should look for a berth on a commercial transport.”   
  
“Nonsense,” Karak replied. “You are a guest of my house and of the Empire, and we shall see you returned home safely.” He looked at his son. “Tomorrow morning, prepare the _wamwI’_. You will return the Commodore to Deep Space Six.”  
  
The younger Klingon’s eyes went wide. Juliet recognized the excitement in them. She didn’t understand the full context of what father was ordering son, but it was important and was in honour of her. “Thank you, Karak, U’Dok. I appreciate you doing this.” She finished her goblet of water and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll retire and attempt to go back to sleep.”  
  
With a nod from both men, Juliet found her way back to the luxurious guest room. Robe on the hook and body back in the bed, sleep overtook the exhausted Starfleet Flag Officer within moments.


End file.
